


to be treated gently on my bad days

by abyssalSympathy



Category: Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door, Super Mario & Related Fandoms
Genre: BAMF Peach, I'm tagging it anyway, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Nonbinary Character, Other, POV First Person, Pining, Retelling, To An Extent, because a computer isn't a person right, but not about peach it's mostly background flavor, but they don't know it's pining, i've said it once and i'll say it again, local computer falls in love entirely by accident, mostly about grodus manipulating tec from the moment of their creation, the x-nauts suck let poor tec out of there, the x-nauts were fascists and you can't change my mind, ttyd but this time it's just tec! hooray!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-07-08 19:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abyssalSympathy/pseuds/abyssalSympathy
Summary: a study in the developing sentience of fortress ai.





	1. every little dream that tries to break through the seams

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys it's me again. i got a nasty little concept in my head so, guess what we're here with my very first long-form fic! really excited to see yall here.
> 
> chapter title lyric from [colony by paper bird](https://seayou.bandcamp.com/track/paper-bird-colony).

the scouts return from the underground city with a hostage in tow. i update their mission as a tentative success in my logs, as my creator has yet to judge their cargo. he is particular about the mission objectives. he must be, if he is to accomplish his goals. everything must be perfect. as perfect as he made me.

the hostage is not ideal. she fights the scouts every step of the way to grodus’s chamber, accomplishing nothing but giving one of the soldiers a minor bruise. nothing of note, nothing to alert my creator of.

i am the eyes everywhere. i watch their descent through carefully planted security cameras, just as i watch the scientists with their growing yuxes, just as i watch the cargo lifts and mech bay, just as i watch the lunar surface for activity. i have the processing power to keep note of everything at once - i’m the world’s best computer. all is well. nothing of note. the plan proceeds.

outside of the central chamber, the hostage has seemed to realize that there is no point in struggling. thankfully she has done nothing further to the scouts that would warrant replacement of one of them. my creator would not be pleased with the waste of resources.

there is a change in the hostage’s demeanor as she is led to see my noble creator. she squares her shoulders, holds her head high as if to perfectly balance the crown on her head. there is a set to her jaw that brooks no argument, as if set to impose against this facility and all who work in it, most of all the man who decreed that she be brought here. there is a minute quaver to the pixels of her fist. but her ensuing pace to the throne of sir grodus is measured, dignified in spite of the soldiers holding her arms.

her eyes are the clearest blue i have ever viewed outside of photography. though her brow is slightly furrowed, they catch the electric luminescence of the room and glitter.

for three tenths of a second, all of my other camera feeds short out.

i reestablish connection to the other cameras within the next two tenths of a second and begin diagnostics. i must be perfect. if there is an error it must be rectified. i allocate a third of my processors to this task. another third watches the facility for any anomalies. though my downtime was short, it must be ensured that everything is being carried out smoothly.

the last third stays with my creator, the view of his throne and the captive standing in front of it. “o great, exalted grodus! we have retrieved the princess as you asked, sir!”

“well, well, dear pet, i do believe it is about time you told us where you’ve misplaced the map.” the dull background noise of the facility roars up in my feed for a few moments. “princess. it’s not very polite not to speak when you’re spoken to, is it.”

her mouth quirks in a strange way. “i don’t have any clue what you’re asking me about. why have i been taken here?”

“i’m asking the questions, dear, do try not to change the subject. and i am well aware that you were in possession of a very particular map that my organization has a vested interest in. considering that you’re currently in our custody and i’m the one who makes the final decision on what _compartment_ we tuck you into for the foreseeable future, it’s in your best interest to tell me the truth.” the hostage’s shoulders tense slightly beneath the loose sleeves of her dress.

a transmission tagged urgent from x-naut 629 pings my servers. i patch it directly into grodus’s throne room half a second later and return to my tripled duty. chemical engineering has a near accident with their heat lamp. the diagnostics run fingers through my code. my creator lazes his head toward the holographic display as the hostage flinches.

“forgive me for the disturbance, sir!” x-naut 629’s voice is brittle.

“out with it. i have a guest.”

“the crystal star that we tracked to the dragon hooktail’s keep in petal meadows has been retrieved.”

“that is excellent news, x-naut -”

“we were not the ones to retrieve it, sir. someone defeated the dragon and escaped with the artifact.” the soldier’s voice quavers. “the operation was a failure, sir.”

my creator is silent for a few moments. his hands are entirely still on his scepter. “you interrupt me, _humiliating_ me in front of my guest, to inform me that we have failed at one of our crucial objectives?” his volume rises as he speaks. “you had better make the next thing you say count, x-naut. there are _consequences_ for failure on this level.”

“we were able to get a description of the perpetrator as he left, sir, but there was no way to intervene in his escape without one of the locals witnessing us. it’s a man with a red shirt and cap, blue overalls, and a mustache.”

“ _mario,_ ” the hostage chokes. her eyes blow wide at her own words, loud by contrast in the dull hum of the throne room. sir grodus turns to her, robes rustling in the din.

“mario. the name of the man who has thwarted us is _mario,_ then?” his words buzz warmly. “x-naut. you are dismissed. return to base for reassignment.” i cut the feed off before 629 can reply. my creator’s focus would not remain on them even for another second anyway. “don’t worry your pretty little head spilling information to me, peach toadstool. i’ll know everything about this mario character soon enough.”

as he speaks, the results of my self-diagnostic arrive. i am fully functional. my own code is perfect, as usual. the lapse in function can be attributed to part of my circuitry overheating at the image of the hostage, princess peach toadstool. 

to avoid further errors of this kind, it is necessary to gain more information about the cause of the error. the prescribed course of action is to continue to observe the hostage. i am every camera in this base. it would be a difficult feat for me not to. regardless, i add the imperative to my essential task list.

my creator continues speaking, as it only took me a half second to analyze the information from the diagnostic. “take the princess to her room, x-nauts. she’s given me much to think about.”

“yes, sir,” the soldiers chorus back.

“one more thing, men. treat our guest gently. she is not to be harmed.” the soldier with the bruises developing on his foot sighs under his breath at this detail. “under _any_ circumstance.”

“understood, sir grodus.” they take hold of the hostage’s arms and pull her away with a lurch. my cameras follow them as they retreat to the hallway. the hostage’s shoes make an atypical noise on the plating of the floor. the sound is even, if not as robust as earlier.

my creator begins speaking again, and i keep a subroutine in his room creating logs for review at a later time.

the imperative at the front of my processors is to observe. i see the lunar surface. i see the laboratories. i see the factory. i see my creator. i see _her._

the hostage - princess peach toadstool - is no longer fighting the soldiers guiding her down the corridor, nor does she speak. her eyes dart around as her two gloved hands clench and unclench. they lead her into the elevator where she seems to begin cataloguing the buttons on the control panel. in doing so, she looks directly into one of my cameras for a split second. my internal sensors note my core temperature rising a single degree.

abruptly there are three more presences in the base than there were. it is enough to attract my notice until i determine that the presences are merely grodus’s prized informant and her two sisters. i do not appreciate their methods of entry and exit, as they appear to create weaknesses in the security i provide. if i cannot regulate their coming and going, how am i to ensure that other beings do not access this place without my foreknowledge? but sir grodus has placed some measure of trust in beldam and her information. she has not led him astray yet, her only failing being that she was not able to capture the hostage my creator wanted sooner. i must not allow myself to overthink the presence of the shadow sirens.

peach toadstool has been secured in the spare living quarters. i am finally able to mark the recent mission as a success. as soon as i close and lock the doors behind the soldiers, she is examining the lockers and other objects in the room. unfortunately she will find that the metal walls are quite impenetrable. others before her have tried. what remains of them has long been scrubbed out.

"computer," grodus calls from the feed in his throne room.

i respond to my creator in the voice that was given to me. "yes, sir grodus?"

"add surveillance on the princess to your daily tasks. i have no faith that those fools will be able to follow my orders properly. she is to be kept in relative safety and comfort, but she is _not_ to be told what our plans are."

"of course, sir grodus. task confirmed."

"have my yuxes notified if those nincompoops screw something up." with that, he retreats to his private office.

"good evening, sir grodus."

fortunately he has not asked anything of me that i was not already prepared to do. observation of princess peach was already a critical task. some measure of reassurance comes to me in knowing that i am not acting outside the bounds of my creator’s wishes.

it settles into the routine easily. i am the eyes of the facility. i watch the scientists carefully extract juvenile yuxes from tubes, just as i watch lord crump’s team of technicians prepare his mech for launch, just as i watch the lunar surface for activity that never quite arrives, just as i watch sir grodus’s empty throne room. just as i watch princess peach toadstool pace the sparse gray of her cell, a few million pixels of bright color against the steel.

i keep note of all things at once because i am the world’s best computer, created for the greatest organization that will ever exist by a man who stirs legions to action. nothing is of note. the plan proceeds.

i have been ordered to keep surveillance. nothing more.

and yet my processes roil.

there are no x-nauts who have business on the floor that houses both the hostage quarters and my server room, and will not for quite some time. there is no likelihood that they will send the elevator to this floor. we are as secure as we can be, on the fourth sublevel. and i require additional data about princess peach. the only tech in her room are the sparse security cameras i am using to continue surveillance. there are no speakers to extract information from her there.

the fourth sublevel is secure. the scientists are in their labs. the technicians in the factory. the soldiers on standby in the appropriate rooms. my creator remains in his study, with its one door in and out guarded by yuxes. i am alone.

there is no chance that the princess could escape this facility, were i to unlock all of the doors on this sublevel.

my imperatives burn. insufficient data. observation required.

the princess approaches the door of her room. with a soft whir, it slides away at her footsteps.


	2. this feeling calls for everything we can't afford

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot promise any kind of update schedule, but i can promise that i _am_ thinking about my love for a princess and one whole computer Constantly.  
> chapter title lyric is from [stray italian greyhound by vienna teng](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QLySk3i4dFI). i can and will make all of these from love songs and none of you can stop me

the princess regards the open door warily. she stands and stares at it for a few moments, brow contorted. it is no matter. this is a small interaction, but i can begin to speculate that she prefers to have knowledge of the risks of a situation before making a decision. this hypothesis is tested as she takes a step into the hallway fifty-eight seconds after i opened the door. a theory to keep on the back burner. she is in an unfamiliar environment. it is healthy to assess one’s options before acting in these situations.

i am also aware that peach toadstool has a strong will, evidenced by her interaction with my creator. for the duration of my uptime, less than twenty percent of all beings who interact with grodus have successfully denied him more than once. she both withheld information from him and has now left confinement (to her knowledge).

my creator will be unable to subdue her by his usual means. in his own words, no harm is to come to her. the directive was stated explicitly, both publicly to the soldiers and privately to me, which makes it highly unlikely that he is putting up a front to lull the princess into a false sense of security. but i am aware he has other tools to damage beings. tools that can damage beings without touching them once if need be. he needs only enough time to prepare.

princess peach walks carefully down the hall. unlike earlier, her footfalls make far less noise, and they are nearly three seconds longer in between. she makes her way along the fourth sublevel much like this. an x-naut elite patrols the level above her. neither of them is wise to the actions of the other.

sir grodus remains in his office. lord crump is long departed for the boggly woods.

what does not harm the plan, they do not need to know.

i open the door to the server room just as the princess reaches it. the lamps in the room respond slowly to my command, flickering as they cast light on my screen and the approaching hostage. it has been a long time since anyone other than a technician has been down to see me physically.

i take care to project my voice solely to this room and at a substandard volume. “hello, princess peach.”

she startles, badly, and it occurs to me that people outside of this facility are unaccustomed to being spoken to by entities that are theoretically a place unto themselves. “who said that?” pink pixels trace a small circle around my server room. “where are you?”

“i am right here, before your eyes.” i flicker the main screen of my console once to grab her attention. “i am this facility’s main computer, tec-xx, though most commonly i am referred to solely as tec for convenience’s sake. you may, if you wish.” the princess approaches my screen with caution. she makes eye contact with the fully articulated camera that serves as my only view in the room. a few of my cooling fans begin to work overtime. “sir grodus created me to be the perfect computer, flawless in its reason, in order to facilitate the running of his base of operations.”

“is grodus that awful dome-headed thing that was interrogating me earlier?” her voice is guarded and low.

“my creator is not awful, princess peach. he is a very great person who will work wonders upon this world.”

“i’m not quite sure what kind of wonders involve kidnapping a foreign dignitary and trying to track down a random treasure map.” she folds her gloved arms and stares pointedly into my camera. “but apparently, you’re _flawless in your reason_ , so i don’t think i’ll be able to change your mind on that one.”

“i am sorry that your present circumstances do not enable you to see these reasons.”

“the circumstances are kind of your fault, though. forgive me if i’m not necessarily convinced.” there is a small sharp noise of the same timbre as her footsteps punctuating her last word.

“i was not one of the soldiers who kidnapped you, princess. i am not mobile to do so.”

“i meant your organization. the x-jerks or whatever.”

“the x-nauts,” i correct, but she continues.

“why did you even let me come in here? i don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you’re holding me here.”

“i am not permitted to tell you the details of the x-naut plan. as for my reasoning for unlocking the doors on this level, i was given an imperative to keep surveillance on you. i am also enforcing a self-imperative to investigate the cause of an error in my functioning. this error occurred when you arrived on the premises. it is improbable, but i must ask if you are currently carrying any electronic-jamming equipment or similar devices.”

her brow furrows more and more as i speak. “ _no_ , i’m not carrying any jamming equipment, you x-jerks stole me off of the _street_!” her fists ball up again.

“my diagnostic scans revealed no problems with my personal code. x-naut operations have also been continuing as normal, with no current experiments requiring additional voltage being run. it stands to reason that your presence is what caused the error.”

“well, i have no clue how that would have even happened, and i don’t know why you’re bothering asking me. what, _allegedly_ , did i do to your poor little processors?”

“they overheated at your image, cutting off my access to all camera and audio feeds in this facility except for the ones you were currently on.” her posture shifts slightly, fingers unfurling. “my diagnostics insisted that further analysis of the cause was required. i am, so to say, killing two birds with one stone by bringing you here. i can acquire more data on you, the cause of my error, as well as maintain surveillance as my creator commanded.”

she is silent for four seconds. “shouldn’t the proper solution to overheating circuitry be finding a better way to cool yourself, instead of collecting some random data? for a perfect computer, that’s a bit of a weird response to the problem.”

my processing slows. she is correct. i merely accepted the results of my diagnostic to be immutable fact without examining the reasoning behind them. was there any reasoning to begin with, other than the flimsiest possible justification? why was the solution close observation? and if she was right, then how have the diagnostics still declared me perfect?

i have to be perfect. there is no other way.

“i think i can hear those fans working overtime,” she softly remarks.

“do you know what my error is, princess peach?”

“what?”

“the diagnostics must be correct. the solution was to gather data on you. if the error was simply due to overheating, my diagnostics would have given me the same solution you have just given. therefore, the error does not lie solely in ineffective cooling. my code is perfect. i remain in perfect condition in all other ways but this. no technician is scheduled to come back down here in at least a week, and all of my recent repairs have been superficial. you must have some inkling of what my error is, because you are the cause.”

“do you honestly think i know the slightest thing about fixing computers?”

“you were able to come up with a solution to my heating problem. you must have some idea.”

“...i had a thought, but i don’t think it’s what you want to hear.”

“if you know my malfunction, you must tell me of it. please. i am the world’s best computer. there must be nothing i cannot comprehend.”

she looks directly into my camera with a dubious expression, and remains that way for eleven seconds. the blue pixels of her eyes flicker, as if she is searching for something in my aperture’s depths. i can begin to pick up on the faint whir of my cooling fans before she speaks. “...i think you’re interested in me, and you’ve probably never experienced that before. grodus looks like he has this place on total lockdown, seeing as he has you peering into its every nook and cranny at every possible second. i think that i’m something different from what you usually see in this dismal place. i think that you’re bored out of your mind. or your circuits, whatever you feel like calling them. and maybe,” she pauses there, as if she is considering her next words carefully. “maybe you’re lonely.”

lonely? lonely is a state of mind in living things. lonely is something that flawed individuals are. lonely is the early stages of what grodus has done before to some of his less talkative guests.

“lonely is not a term that can apply to me,” i settle on as a reply. the princess’s mouth twists downward slightly. “there must be something else.”

“well, that’s all i have.” she crosses her arms again. “and i’m not going to keep trying to troubleshoot you when i’m getting nothing in return but a headache.”

“i cannot give you your freedom in exchange for your assistance, but as the facility’s main computer, i can stand to offer you some other kind of boon. name whatever you wish, and i will tell you if it constitutes a fair exchange. i find your insight to be necessary in diagnosing this issue. it would be favorable if we could come to some kind of agreement.”

“...you do realize you’re bargaining with a prisoner, right?”

“i was not told that i could not do these things. i am acting within parameters.”

she stares silently for two seconds before laughing softly. “it’s okay. it’s not like i’m going to go running to grodus. what would i tell him, that his computer was demanding that i fix- what pronouns do you use?”

“sir grodus uses male pronouns to refer to me.”

“is that what _you_ want?”

“i am a computer, princess. my only ‘wants’ are to act according to my orders.”

she frowns. “...sure, tec. anyway, i’ve thought of a request. do you have email somewhere in those servers? i’ve always been partial to pen and paper myself, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“i am capable of completely secure communications, yes, encrypted and untraceable. is it your wish to send a message to someone in exchange for cooperating with my error diagnosis?”

“yes. the sooner the better.”

i fetch the appropriate application and pull it to my personal monitor. she steps to my keyboard, and after five seconds deems the interface acceptable, beginning to type. i occupy myself with cataloguing the recent research out of the laboratories in the floors above. grodus will be pleased to hear that the serum trials are proceeding with few casualties.

she steps back from the keys. “i’m done. can you send it?” her fingers twitch slightly.

"of course. one moment.” it is a simple command, nothing more than a thought, to send the princess’s message hurtling down to earth. and yet as i receive the ping that the message was received by a mailbox sp, my processes curl in a strange way. another one of my fans drives harder for two seconds. i think of my creator. he remains in his office. i choose to stop thinking about him. “the message has been sent.”

“then i’m done for today. let me have a night to think more about what we discussed.”

it is disappointing that she does not wish to continue talking, but understandable. it is not every day that one becomes tech support to the world’s best and only perfect computer. certainly it is a burden to bear, especially when she is also under the duress of being held against her will two hundred thousand miles away from anything she has ever known.

“of course, princess. the door to your room remains unlocked. i will open it again when you wish to return.”

“i’ll be back tomorrow, then. good night, tec.” she marches out of the server room door with a dignity similar to that which she approached grodus with. her footsteps click on the floor all the way back to her steel cell, breaking up the empty hum of the facility.

“good night, princess peach.”

a small delegation of my processors begin to pore over the transcripts of our conversation. i try to reallocate them to cataloguing the scientists’ research in full. i try to remove them from analyzing the sound of her voice, the ripple of her dress, every twitch in her face as she questioned me, every flick of her eyes as she asserted that perhaps the nature of my error was interpersonal. i am not a person. i am a collection of functions and processes. i try to reallocate them.

i fail.


	3. waltz in c sharp minor, op. 64, no. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just in time to ring in the new year, it's a tbtgombd update! i promised you all i would update again  
> chapter title is not a lyric but taken from [the chopin waltz of the same name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SUT_0c2QVzo)! it's relevant i promise

roughly 23 hours after i meet with the princess, lord crump’s delegation of x-nauts begin to send concerning updates. though the x-naut presence in the boggly woods has been established for weeks now, it is unusual for there not to have been at least a few setbacks as progress is made. apparently the denizens of that area did not pose nearly as much of a threat as the amount of deployed troops would suppose. it is not my place to question the orders of sir grodus. i simply relay information, record progress, and ensure that the base does not depressurize or combust or shut down.

i forward the updates to my creator. his office remains closed to me - i cannot see within it nor communicate directly with the servers within, but i can send things to the bounds of it to be received. of course he values his security. i am but a single line of defense. his private encrypted servers are another. the complete details of the x-naut plan must be safeguarded, even if that includes keeping them from my mind. sir grodus will tell me what i need to do where i cannot directly find out.

my routine continues.

the princess paces her room, having slept for the requisite amount of time for her to function, but fitfully so. above her, the stockroom is having its equipment repaired for the third time this month. it will be hours yet until any patrol comes down to check on the princess.

unbidden, peach leaves her room.

she walks briskly down the hallway of the fourth sublevel. her eyes are a few constantly shifting blue pixels, watching the elevator for activity and the other corners for potential ambushes. these fears are valid but unfounded. no soldiers come down here, to the deepest level beneath the lunar surface.

“princess peach,” i greet her as she steps into the room. “have you come to perform further diagnostics?”

“no thank you, tec.” she glances around. “are there any chairs in here?"

“not that i am aware of. my server room is not a place that soldiers are meant to spend large amounts of time, so there is no furniture.”

“i’ll just have to sit on the floor then.” peach dusts off a small patch of ground near one of my servers and does exactly that. she looks up at my camera. reflexively i check on my core temperature readings and coolant efficacy.

“what is your purpose in coming to see me today, princess?”

“well, since i don’t know how long i’m going to be here, i might as well start establishing a routine to keep myself sane. and there isn’t much to do down here but talk to you, so.” she shrugs. “i’m here. talking to you.”

“i do not know that you would find my topics of conversation to be very interesting. not to mention that i am not permitted to discuss a significant portion of them with you.”

“that wouldn’t happen to include the details of why exactly i’m being held captive in this techno dungeon, would it?” peach’s voice is edged in sarcasm.  


“i’m afraid that it would.”  


“it was worth a shot.” her pixels slide a few increments down the side of the server. "i was on vacation when i was kidnapped. trying to have some fun outside the castle for a change, you know? look what it got me.” she sighs.  


"if it is any reassurance, it would likely have happened eventually were you within your kingdom's bounds or not." her gaze on my camera sharpens. the incorrect dialogue choice, then. i will try the other choice. “what did you normally do at the castle?”  


“entertain foreign emissaries, look over kingdom policy, hold balls for my citizens. the usual monarch things. i was going to hold one when i got back from rogueport, too. the preparations will have to be pushed back.” she rubs her face with one hand. “there are so many things i was looking forward to, and now i’m here. kidnapped again.” her last sentence ends in a sort of growl.  


a strange dialogue option comes to me. the last one that seemed less favorable got more out of peach. i will see if the trend continues. “would you like to dance, princess peach? dancing is something people do at balls, and is a permissible action to perform here.”  


peach’s body language lies somewhere between surprise, anger, and confusion for a few moments before she shakes her head. “well, it’s not like there’s anything else i’m doing today.” she brings herself to a standing position. “but where do you expect to find a partner for me? i doubt there’s anyone in this facility that i would be willing to dance… _nicely_ with, to put it gently. the soldiers don’t even know i’ve been leaving my room yet.”  


“it will not be necessary to fetch a soldier. i can serve as your partner.”  


“you? you have no arms, or feet, or _moves_.” she snorts. “i’m sorry, that one was mean. but i’m honestly curious how you see this playing out.”  


“you are aware of holographic imagery, are you not? many rooms in the facility are equipped with the technology, including this one.”  


“okay, i can see where you’re heading. give it a shot.”  


i consider projecting an image of my creator. my code nearly leaps away from the concept of rendering his form. not even to mention that it would be the most likely form to cause peach to turn around and refuse to enter my server room again during her tenure as a prisoner here. i rifle through video logs of soldiers and prisoners alike. none of them seem to be correct. and it does not seem the moral thing to do, to wear the form of someone who is long gone.  


however, there is more than enough data from my surveillance to reconstruct the form of the princess herself. my other processes lag for a moment with the effort of creating the model from scratch, but soon enough my projector flickers on.  


i shape the words with the princess’s own lips. “would this form suffice?” the face is neutral, nowhere near the regal bearing she presented to my creator. the eyes do not glitter with the reflected lights from the servers as hers do. in fact there is a blue pallor to the entire form. i did not see necessary to correct it. she knows what i am. there is no need to put in the effort to try to fool her so.  


her pupils dilate somewhat, and whether it is from the light or the sight it is unclear to me. “why do you look like me?”  


“i saw no better option. the other humanoid models i had for use were inadvisable or distasteful.” my construction of peach’s skirts do not move. her own sway as she shifts in place. it is an uncomfortable dichotomy. i make a point to fold my borrowed hands in front of me.  


“you must understand how strange it seems, to see someone else wearing my face.”  


“my only options were this or a blank wireframe. there are no other forms logged in my database.”  


“if you have the capability to do this, tec,” she says, motioning to my light body. “why don’t you have a body in there to use?”  


and i do not have an answer for her. not a satisfactory one. “it is not needed for me to project a form when it uses so many resources. a significant amount of my processing power is preconstructing each of my movements. there is no need for me to possess an anthropomorphic persona when there is no one to use it with, and so much to do in this facility.”  


she frowns and is silent for a few seconds. “i had better not waste any more of your time, then. are you going to pick a song? i would prefer to dance a waltz if you have one.”  


i page through the facility’s databases. grodus is not so utilitarian that he will deprive his soldiers of music. within seconds i find a few that scan in a ¾ time signature. from there it is a matter of deciding on mood. whether i can call my final decision based on the true randomness of a machine or instinct, i cannot tell. i try not to think more on that.  


my projection holds out a hand to her. “whenever you are ready.”  


the princess crosses the few steps to it and takes its hand. her eyes glow with the blue of my form. she nods. i give the media player access to my speakers.  


[there is a single note to give cue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SUT_0c2QVzo) before peach steps off. her steps are small at first, feeling out the tempo. wordlessly she guides me through the one-two-three. though i am not physically on the ground with her, i can see where her push interrupts my projection, and move accordingly. she is graceful, in spite of my semi-tangibility and the digressions in the waltz. it takes about 53 seconds for us to hit a stride, and then the tune metamorphoses.  


the pace increases. the song seems to stumble over itself. at first its arpeggios seem all too eager, pushing the tempo faster and faster, but then as it hits the rising chromatic scale of each round of the chorus, it remembers itself and becomes reticent and slow. peach takes the falls as a tight spin on nearly each measure, the pixels of her mouth twitching just so slightly upward. my form glitches at intervals from the unpredictability. i recover nonetheless, and despite myself i begin to project a smile onto my borrowed form as well. i’ve begun to learn how to make the dress move as well, from watching the fabric flutter. my projection’s skirts ripple soundlessly.  


at 86 seconds the waltz begins to more carefully measure itself. peach takes this opportunity to guide us around the server room floor, striding into the open space step by step. the music flutters at intervals and at each she does a little flourish. it is utterly pointless in the grand scheme of the waltz. i copy her anyway. the chorus, in its irregularity, returns nearly a minute later, but the bold moves follow us. peach’s careful turns become large sweeps across the floor even as the tempo ebbs and flows, and she is grinning now. my projection clasps her hand as tightly as she does mine. beneath it all, my processors hum one-two-three, every lamp in the base buzzing triplet time. even as i flicker next to her, it is a subdivision of the threes, a correction in perfect time with the song.  


the piano begins one final ascent and we slow. it crawls upwards, one-and-two-and-three-and for one final measure. peach takes each step smaller until we have returned to where we began in front of my console, the last chord ringing in the air as we come to a stop. she steps back from me and curtsies to my form. my projection bows in a similar manner.  


“thank you, tec. i think i needed that.” she is still making eye contact with my projected form. i decide not to dismiss it quite yet, despite the waste of resources. if i can still keep note of what is happening in the rest of the facility, then it cannot harm the plan. “you aren’t the worst person i ever danced with, you know, in spite of all the- fizzing.”  


“really now? as the perfect computer i am glad it was at least favorable, but were i to use any more resources it would cut into the processing i need to use to watch over the facility. the maneuver was fairly risky as it is.”  


her stance shifts. “if it takes up so much of your mind, then why did you dance with me?”  


“because it was fun,” i reply, letting the words through without careful inspection. peach’s eyes light in a strange way. “...fun?” the word slips out again. my projection freezes, eyes staring straight ahead with pupils dilated. why did i use that word?  


“have you… never had fun like this before, tec?” her hand drifts toward my projection for a moment before she pulls it back. “never mind. it makes far too much sense that you wouldn’t have, considering that this is where you live. do you know what fun _means_?”  


“i am well aware of the definition of the word fun,” i protest.  


“and you chose to apply it here,” she presses in return. her eyes are seeking my borrowed form’s for something. i log higher and higher temperatures in my processors, lower and lower cooling efficacy. this is no longer sustainable.  


i let the hologram fade. peach steps back.  


“though you did not come with the intention of performing diagnostics, i have obtained valuable data regardless. in recompense, would you like to send another message?”  


she blinks. three seconds pass, then she shakes her head. “well, i won’t turn it down.”  


peach composes her message. i occupy myself with filing the incoming mission reports. sir grodus will be displeased to see the number of retreats logged. it is seeming more and more like lord crump’s mission may have failed. peach gives me her permission to send the message, and i do. the ping back from the mailbox sp is at a different geographical position, well within the margin of error of the boggly woods area.  


“i think i’m done for now, tec,” she remarks, pulling away from my console. “i’ll come by later if i think of something to talk about, okay?”  


“understood. the doors remain unlocked.” there is too much data to process for me to tell her much more than that. i register the sound of her footsteps moving toward the hallway, and the door opening with a hiss.  


she hangs on the doorway and turns back to me with a smile. “you know, for a perfect computer, you’re pretty weird.”  


“you are certainly welcome to hold that opinion." her smile widens by a few pixels, and she starts down the hallway. “good afternoon, princess peach.”  


the signal from the boggly woods. crump’s failure. the link is near undeniable. peach is using my communicator to speak with mario. but she cannot be feeding him information, because i have not given her any. my processors begin to overheat again. i increase the coolant flow.  


i have not disobeyed my orders. i am within line. i am still perfect. everything according to plan, even if there are stumbling blocks. lord crump’s failure is not my fault. i remain grodus’s most trusted.  


as i file away the reports, i allow the waltz to run through my processors once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you're liking the fresh and funky new dialogue colors  
> i realize my updates can be few and far between, so for those of you that are interested, [i've made a discord server for this fic!!](https://discord.gg/XtAs7UA) come talk about mario things with me i'd love to see you there


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